Close Season
by CleverNickname
Summary: "It true love! True love born of convenience and limited options!"-The Warden, Superjail. Royce/Isabelle
1. Chapter 1

A/N Waaaah! I must be crazy to start another fic when I'm so behind on the others, such is the muse, I had to write this, I am merely her vessel.

Ok enough crazy ramblings, this is a Royce/Isabelle fic, although it will be a few chapters before they are conclusively named. Major inspiration is due to the movie, obviously, the Predators comics surrounding the movie, and IronyRocks. Who, to my knowledge, wrote the first and in my opinion, best R/I fic out there. Reviews will be appreciated, in spirit, if not in writing. Enjoy.

The Man

The man awoke on this strange new world, disoriented, confused and angry.

Especially angry.

He journeyed on, meeting with other people, gradually realizing how strange the world actually was. Realizing quickly what was happening, surviving the indignity of being hunted like an animal, enjoying the thrill of hunting-and killing something greater than himself. Surviving.

Barely.

Other men, those who had been dropped along with him, do not survive. Convicts, murders, grunts, jarheads and criminals and gangsters and all the sundry freaks and psychos die. Some manage to surprise him despite his generally low opinion of mankind. Some, even the worst scum bags, die defending others, die standing up, die with honor.

Until he alone is left alive.

He forages, fights, survives. He takes down several Predators, each time barely making it out himself, and in a way even he knows is sick he enjoys it. Still, he admits to himself, he misses Earth, fucked up as it is sometimes.

Once, just once, he meets a survivor, highly skilled, tough, even more so than he is. However it's obvious after only a few minutes that he is totally, completely batshit insane.

He's so skilled however that the surviving man can't help but admire the bastard. A tentative partnership is formed, and the Man ignores the other's demented ravings and imaginary friend, he learns some, but not a lot, and one day it becomes clear that he's valued for his useful possessions, not his company.

Eventually the Man kills him, elegantly and without regret, by getting his other enemies to find him and blast him to pieces.

The Man helps himself to the demented survivor's stuff.

He did learn one useful thing from him: there were factions among the fierce aliens and that they had a ship they could be stolen. He exploits this brilliantly, but when his alien "friend" ends up getting killed he jumps ship before the victorious Hunter could blow it up.

At least he manages to kill it by taking it by surprise. He's sure it believed he was still on the ship. As he hacks off its head he falls and odd kind of anger emanating from the usual cold pleasure he gets from a good killing. It's a bit troubling, he's never felt that before, but he dismisses it. He misses his ride back home, but he's sure he'll get another one, of that he has absolute faith.

The man heads off into the jungle.

He didn't know how long a "season" lasted exactly. The madman was vague on that point. The man guesses it's around three or four years-however long a year is on this place, but he is not certain.

He is even less certain how long "human season" is around here. They drop other aliens, "shit you wouldn't believe" the madman once told him, and he was right.

He tried to make alliances, like he did with the smaller Predator, but the aliens were almost universally hostile. They either attacked him or ran away. Of course he knew how to defend himself, and did so with increasing success. He recounts and names them in his head: Insect-thing, Chitinoid, Man-with-cockroaches-in-his-skin, Giant Spider With Way Too Many Legs, Five Eyes, Tall Skinny Man, Serpent-thing, Winged Creature, and things he can't even begin to describe, things that aren't even vaguely humanoid. In a small way he feels sorry for them, he knows what it's like being dropped here facing hostile aliens, but it's either them or him, and it sure as hell ain't going to be him.

Eventually he realizes there's a pattern. He barely defeats one and another one is dropped in by a ship that suddenly refuses ever to land. There's no time to take a breather, to get soft. Between day to day survival and the alien face off, he's more alert and focused than he's ever been in his entire life.

The man starts up a collection. A nice secluded grotto, a pretty waterfall nearby, a load of sticks sharpened at both ends. As he impales his latest alien head-a thing that looks like a giant fly- he realizes he is being kept sharp, and that he's starting to resemble _Them_ more and more. He admires his trophy rack, then heads off into the jungle to hunt for food.

He learns quickly, he could easily make a spear thrower, an atlatl, and avoid wasting precious ammo. He finds out which plants and poisonous enough to kill what, and which merely paralyze so he can kill at leisure. He can avoid dangerous up close interactions and kill from a distance. He's surprised by how few aliens can throw missiles. He graduates to a decent compound bow. The killing becomes so routine it almost loses its pleasure.

They still have not landed, but he is patient, they will land again.

He is here for what he estimates is close to a year when he hears a familiar whisper. _"Over here, turn around"_ He is immediately alert, thinking it's another demented survivor, or-he realizes it's ridiculous, but the doubt refuses to leave- the original one he met before. He here's it over the course of several days before realizing it's just the wind whistling through a certain grove of trees. It disturbs him slightly but he tells himself he can ignore the human-sounding wind.

Maybe another half-year passes, he doesn't know, it's hard to keep time in this green hell. The days are twice as long, the nights seem short. He studies the constellations here, but it's hard with the he Jovian planet in the sky. He guesses he's on a moon, not a true planet, and wonders how long it takes to orbit the gas giant. He tries to focus on it, but the red and yellow clouds shift every minute of everyday and he cannot keep track of his position. Gradually he stops caring.

The wind is annoying him. He even dulled his blade cutting a few of those trees down, before realizing how foolish it is and stops. He can learn to ignore the wind.

An alien he kills has huge eyes and sharp claws. After cutting off the deadly claws he starts on it's head. It huge dark eyes reflect his image and he sees how thin and wiry he has become. He is covered and mud, as per usual. His teeth are bared. He thinks he can see terror in those big eyes. As he bashes its head in it makes a disturbing bleating noise. Like a lamb being slaughtered.

His trophy collection is full, he'll have to start another soon.

Maybe he's close to the two year mark, he's far from sure. When the wind blows he can swear he hears the Demented Survivor's voice, _"Over here, over here, turn around."_ Some times it beckons him into the forest, or laughs. Sometimes it sounds like the voice of a woman, or of children. They seem to be calling his name. He caught himself twice trying to follow it before he remembers.

There are no other humans on this place. His name is irrelevant, he is the only one of his kind.

The notion is lingering at the edge of his consciousness; he doesn't openly acknowledge it yet. He sees boot prints in the jungle, very worn but recognizably human. He follows them for miles. Even stopping to listen, calling out every now and then, but all he gets is his echo. The irony is rich, it's hours before he realizes he's been tracking his old prints. He sits down, feeling tired and stupid.

He acknowledges it; he's lonely, and it comes as an aching surprise. He hasn't heard a human voice in two years, not even his own.

He's always been alone, for as long as he could remember. He's always been better off for it, or so he's believed, but now he realizes this is how the crazy survivalist got started, and how he ended up as a wreck with only a voice in his head for company. The man swears he can hear the bastard laugh now.

Surprisingly he feels neither fear nor anguish at the thought. He figures he can endure it longer than most, and the idea of madness doesn't disturb him, he is naturally disturbed by very little. He had his realization, and he'll take steps to avoid problems the severe isolation might cause, but the challenge did not daunt him, he merely shrugged and accepted it.

The Predators come back.

He's learned to ignore the wind; the irrelevancies that tempt him into think another one of his kind is here. He fights, he hunts and is hunted.

What he does not see is the risks he is taking, what the loneliness drives him to.

He does not see his own despair.


	2. Chapter 2

The Elder

He was old now, graduated to official Elder status. He savored the perks that came with it. The realization from other Hunters how dangerous he must be to have survived this long in their deadly world. The hard won experience, the huge trophy rack, the authority, even the boredom that was starting to creep into the hunt. Something he would have never believed as a young one.

He_ knows_ this hunting moon, used to train the most promising young males to their full potential. He considers it in a secret way, his, although in truth the council he was part of shared the responsibility in organizing its hunts.

He knows every inch of the hunting ground, having fought and survived there himself as a youth. He knew about the many animals that were regularly imported, their size strength, speed, where they were from. He was an excellent tracker, had a full trophy collection on the home world and a legion of offspring. Many a hunter had survived on his advice, his knowledge and genes would surely be passed down for many a generation.

He knew now of a fearsome animal that lurked in the hunting preserve, this particular game had survived a season, which was rare, but he did so with a particular style he couldn't help admire. There were others, he knew of one who had been recently caught and killed, but they usually hid, stayed bellow the tracker, scavenged and did not come out. This one was bold, he could hide of course, and do it well, but he was much more open. He challenged hunters, made kills. He showed bravado and a flare for killing that started to get him talked about, which wasn't good for an animal in the preserve. He did not seem to care however, he continued killing openly, leaving mutilated bodies, even making trophies of other aliens. _Their _aliens.

Hunters began to take a mandible to embellishing his reputation, and he became Wanted, which was not good for him. Every hunter began dreaming of his skull on their rack, the Elder even took an interest. He was a bit too old now for The Hunt, but he began commandeering new shipment, dropping them for the wanted one's benefit. To see if he would rise to the challenge.

He preformed beautifully.

One day, near the start of his species next season, he sent a whole load of intelligent pack hunters, recently discovered. They reminded him of their pack animals that were used to flush out prey, except vastly more intelligent, sentient almost. The lowly ones, workers, loaded the snarling beasts into a crate, preparing them for the drop. He wondered how the lone survivor would deal with multiple mind-coordinated assailants.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The Man didn't know much about Semtex, he admitted to himself, but it was pretty safe to handle, as far as explosives went. He did come across a cache of ancient TNT, which he didn't dare touch. It had been sweating nitroglycerin in this jungle heat for God knows how long.

There were odd caches of weapons stored here and there, some recent, some very old. He suspected the Demented Survivor and several of his predecessors had set up weapons stores like squirrels caching acorns for the start of the next season. The source probably coming form their shorter-lived companions.

He carefully added the Semtex (no doubt brought by some long dead soldier/demolitions expert) to his store. He rationed out a small bit, estimating how much he would need for the job. He set the charges, waited.

The crate was not long in coming down, he watched it land, caught a glimpse of the strange animals about to rush out and devour anything in their way. He casually pressed the charge button.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

The Elder cursed in shock.

He had been watching, anticipating. He had commandeered a hunting drone for the purpose-another perk of his position. He wanted to see how the creature would do.

He found him sitting -almost casually, drinking clean river water with his hand. He was absolutely calm and collected, almost waiting for something, which should have given the Elder some kind of clue. The creature did not run or even stand up at the sight of the crate parachuting in. He seemed almost-bored. The Elder hunter wondered at his attitude, but he wanted to see how he and the new animals would perform.

They were just about to burst out of their crate when the Creature casually raised a hand and pushed a button. The new vicious animals had disappeared in an explosion of dust and debris, never having gotten even a chance to hunt, or to square off fairly with the wanted being.

It went against every law of the hunt.

Of course he wasn't a Hunter, just a wild animal, they did everything they could to survive, especially his species. Still it was a great and annoying surprise.

Another Elder has been watching. To his further annoyance he clicked his mandibles in laughter.

"It's like untying a knot but cutting it in half, isn't it?"

The Elder hunter snorted contemptuously. "There's no honor in hunting in such a fashion."

Now it was his companion's turn to be contemptuous, "Since when do _the_y have any honor?"

The Elder clicked his mandibles thoughtfully, "True, still they have an infinite capacity to surprise."

"Which is why we hunt them." His companion agreed then changed the subject. "A group of three wants to go down and hunt this one."

"Now? There's been no authorization to do so, although this one is stirring up a lot of talk"

"Yes, this lot has been bothering me for authorization to go hunt him, but I do not know even if I should bother bringing it up before the rest of the council, his kind's season has not even started yet. And they are stupid young males" He added, making it clear that "stupid" and "young male" were synonymous in his lexicon.

"But he is becoming an annoyance." The Elder mused. "He has almost escaped once." From his companion's look of surprise it was clear he had not heard of this. The Elder spread his mandibles open wide in a grin. "There was a false-hunter hunt not too long ago. He was already captured and bound to the totem when this one came along to set him free. Apparently they formed an alliance of sorts; he was given access to the ship."

Now his companions shock turned to outrage. "False-hunters are even worse, they have even less honor than a wild animal."

The Elder grunted in agreement. "He almost escaped the moon, but the Prime hunter of the three on the moon stopped the ship, apparently he got off in time." He paused and considered "He was of my seed. This creature killed him."

He did not get sympathy, or expect it. His companion stated ritualistically: "Such is the path."

"Yes, he died with honor, and managed to sire a few of his own before death claimed him."

The subject of their conversation was checking to make sure each of his targets was completely dead. Satisfied he turned as if to head off into the jungle but stopped turned his head and stared directly at the drone's camera. He held their gaze for a second then, slowly, almost insolently, headed off into the forest. As if he were saying "I knew you were there all along."

There was a fraction of time spent in silence then The Elder said. "I will bring it the proposal to the council."

0o0o0o0o0o0

The Man knew they were coming for him, he felt it in his gut long before the drone came to watch him. That's why he took out the latest prey so easily; he couldn't be bothered with them now. He rationed his explosives, his weapons. He was becoming a threat to them. He knew he should have not been so obvious, that he should have been like the madman and stay hidden, but that was just not his style. He did not fear death. If they came for him they came for him.

Let the bastards come for him.

A/N: It's always hard not to humanize an alien species, especially Predators, but I still felt I had to write this chapter mostly from their POV, and I think I did alright.

I mostly used the culture and views established by the AVP series written by the Perrys, which I know some fans don't like, but I think are good enough, and I sure as hell aren't going to take the time make my own up.

The only thing that is mine is how the "Super Predators" from the movie refer to "Classic" ones. Most human tribes refer to themselves in a term that can be translated to "The People" "Real People" or "True Humans" implicitly degrading everyone else (just another pleasant aspect of humanity) so I figured that the word for themselves would be 'Hunter' and in contrast to the classics they'd refer to themselves as True or Genuine Hunter, and denigrate the classics as "False" hunters. Just in case you were confused.

Reviews will be appreciated, thank you to those who have already reviewed.


	3. Chapter 3

The Woman

She had survived because she was quiet. It was her gift, it was her curse.

She could remember this since she was little. Her teachers, her few companions, they had all feared her silence, her stillness. It had followed her all her life, this ability to be still, to be steady, to remain unnoticed. Then it had become her calling.

She had joined the service when she became an adult. She ran from a moment that was not still, or steady. Revenge burned in her heart. The training is grueling, she rises to every challenge. She is not praised much by her superiors, she is too unnoticeable for that, then one day the shooting instructor discovers her gift.

They actually called it The Gift.

She can hold still, for hours if necessary. She can control her breathing, her heartbeat. She can be still and not move the cross hairs for even the movements necessary for breathing or pulse. She could, through sheer will, lower her heart rate.

When she received top scores in her sniper training she disappeared into black-ops, receiving special training, honing her skill further. She traveled the world, taking out specific targets. She became one of the top snipers in her field.

She also noticed after a while her superiors shift in attitude towards her. With rank came privileges of course, but it also became duty. She was often asked over her other colleagues to hunt, to kill. She often did the dirtiest work. She shot a man who used children as shields, she took out a wannabe_ shaheed_ who looked pregnant (she was assured the woman was only packed with explosives) counter-sniped against another female sniper with a penchant for torture, she killed the wife of an enemy extremist while she was holding their child.

She never flinched from her duty, never disobeyed orders. Her superiors would nod, as if they recognized something in her.

The Woman knew one day she would go to hell. There was fear there yes, but there was also sadness. Sadness for what she had become.

A thought has always haunted her; whispered in black-op circles, murmured among Special Forces. Soldiers and warriors of all kinds swapped stories and rumors. Out in the field when the sun set and the night seemed close it became almost inevitable to speak around the campfire of a vicious hunter, an alien bogeyman.

This hunter of men-and the occasional woman- stalked in the shadows, turning itself invisible. Showing no mercy, killing for sport, inflicting the worst kind of death and mutilation. She knew logically some of the stories much be exaggerated, embellished for effect. The highest in intelligence circles knew them to be real, which scared her more than anything. She held a feeling in her bones, a fear that was close it felt like a premonition. A fear that haunted her in the darkest of nights: It would come after her.

She knew she was going to hell. She prayed it just wasn't with that demon hunter of men, the alien monster.

Although there were stories of its defeat. The triumph of one warrior over the evil thing. This she knew to be true as well. Perhaps, she thought sarcastically, one had to be pure of heart. But maybe when it came for, she would be able to defeat it.

What she did not know was that it would rob her of her world.

The Woman opened her eyes to the sun shining gold through the green leaves. She did not know this jungle, and she knew most. She knew some plants, which her training told her was poisonous or edible. Some species of insects and animals. Some of it seemed Earthly, but a lot of it did not.

What she couldn't get over was how dead in felt to her. Rainforests were supposed to be the most biologically diverse places on Earth, but this was not Earth. Things must have been carried-or put here. Seeds and eggs and spores found it welcoming and germinated, but compared to the beauty of her world this was place was poor. Hostile.

She had slept successfully in a shallow cave. It was times like these she wished she wasn't alone, that there was someone to take a watch. She was the sole survivor, she was alone, and she'd been alone for a while.

She had been dropped, with the monsters, the Predators of her world. Just so she knew her place. There was one man, innocent looking with a quick smile and she had pitied him. Tried to look out for him. She fingered the scar on her neck. She would never be so trusting again.

She had survived. She and her-for lack of a better word team- had managed to take one out, plus several dogs. Another was taken out in a suicide explosion; the last one came after her and the doctor, the other survivor.

She had fought, she had fought for him, but in the end it was no use, all they could do was run. And when they had found a temporary hiding space, one small vanishing place of safety she promised in the end she told him she would be merciful with him. She would do them both quickly. It would be painless.

"No, it won't." Then he cut her neck.

_What the hell_. She moved, or tried. She could see his face, it began to blur in and out. She took a step back, than another. He waited a bit tentatively. His face was expressionless. She wanted to lift her gun up. Something told her to shoot him, no matter if the Predator heard, but the gun suddenly felt so heavy. She suddenly could not lift it. The doctor's face began to blur. Then his voice.

She tried crawling away, while she still had the strength. But every moment became slower, and she became heavier. She let her rifle slide to the ground, unable to bear it's weight any longer, and still she crawled.

The doctor-the psychopath- gloated down at her. Reveling in his victim forced to crawl through the mud. He gloated-she only caught the bear gist of what he was saying. He was a monster, a self-admitted one, and he wanted to stay, to be among the monsters.

_You idiot!_ She wanted to scream. _They would never let you be part of them; you're just an animal that's fun to kill!_

The doc, continued to watch the effects in fascination. He even giggled softly. He moved down to deliver another cut, a shadow appeared. _You were better off with a trained soldier by your side, moron. _She continued to crawl.

The Woman couldn't see exactly what was going on. She thought she heard the doctors voice. She focused on her last crawl. Then with all the strength she could muster rolled over and curled into a fetal position at the base of a tree.

She could just imagine it, she thought with a twisted smile. Against her will she savored the image. The idiot, thinking they could be friends, the bigger monster, bearing down on him. She thought she heard a scream, once, then twice, then a wet gurgling sound. She smiled in satisfaction, then felt unclean in a way that had nothing to do with the cold mud she was in.

She heard heavy footsteps. The alien monster had jumped down. _It is looking for me._ She remembered the stories, the first story of the Predator; she was covered in mud.

A soft clicking noise, _It is scanning. _She nearly cried out, but luckily the drugs prevented her from doing so. The world around her grew distorted. It was dark and she could not see. She took the deepest breath she could while remaining silent. She closed her eyes.

She was not here; she was not on an alien hunting planet. She was behind her rifle, setting her sights, like she had done a million times before. She saw the target even as she heard curious clicking. She could see the cross hairs. Now she was at the apogee of silence. Her breathing inaudible, her heartbeat suppressed. She immersed her self in the Silence. Used the Gift.

After a while the clicking went away.

Dawn, cold and gray appeared over the horizon. The Woman moved a limb tentatively, then another. Slowly she became unstuck from the fetal position. She felt stiff, but at least she could move.

She did a mental rundown. The small cut on her neck was already crusted over. The world was not blurry, her sharp sniper's eyes had returned. Things sound normal. She felt a little sick, but she supposed that was normal.

As she slowly un-stiffened she tried to remember what he said about the neurotoxin. She could remember nothing except his chilling: "You will feel everything." She tried to shrug off the nausea. The other effects wore off, this one would probably wear off too. She was alive, that's all that mattered.

As the sun continued to rise slowly a quiet jubilation rose in her, _I am was alive. _Despite everything, despite her deepest despair, that joyful thought had overwhelmed all else. She stood up and trekked as quietly as she could through the morning jungle. Her silence, The Gift had saved her.

_Like it saved you from Isaac's killers?_ A sneering voice asked her. That punctuated her ecstatic mood. Her spotter, dead, while she was ruthless enough to save herself. She thought now of why she was here. What prompted this hellish punishment. The Earthly jungle she was in last, the men who had come for them, her spotter telling her to run. The sounds of him being tortured and killed. He did not give away her position, and neither did she. She crouched there, immersed herself in the silence. Then they had went away.

She felt suddenly horribly sure, at that moment, that that was then they had saw her. She had no proof of course, but for some mysterious reason she was certain. They had been watching her then, making their cold calculations, deciding that she was the one, and planning on her capture.

She felt a bitter metallic taste in her mouth. She thought it was another after effect from the drug, she felt it was the bitterness of her sins catching up with her. She supposed that people, most anyway, would try to look for the rationale of things. Maybe she was doing this now, trying to justify this bad luck to her misdeeds, but she thought: _me, those men I was dropped with, that doctor_… The monsters of her world sent here by another, more powerful set of monsters_. It's a good thing I am never going back._

The Woman searched the jungle, looking for a good spot to snipe from. She knew the surviving Predator was looking for her.

A/N Kinda short, but it just felt right to end here.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed, I appreciate all of them.

GrayHuntress, I apologize in advance, I'm a lousy typist and unless spell check catches those annoying little errors I rarely find them.

The Hunt.

_Threes, they always come in threes._

He knew they were coming, a special hunt just for him. _I'm so flattered_, he told himself sarcastically. He knew he should have been quieter. He should have laid low, like the madman, but that was not him. For some reason he just couldn't. He faintly berated himself, but there was no time for that now. They were coming.

He ran through the jungle, the mud sticking to his skin. Wet leaves slapping at him. He jumped over a fallen tree.

_Come on, come on._ They had set the dogs after him, they were hoping to flush him out, he knew, try and push him for more open ground. He could not allow that. He purposely led them into deeper jungle. He could hear them snarl.

If the couldn't chase him into were they wanted he knew they would try to circle around, surround him and flush him out into the most open spot he they could find. That was why he was running. He was fast, but he knew they were faster. He climbed up and over another fallen tree trunk.

The dense jungle would slow them down, somewhat, their legs were short, but powerful. They could clamber up things; push their way through dense vegetation. He was lighter, had the use of hands and could haul himself up over almost anything. It was a race against time.

He thought he heard their growling up ahead he changed direction slightly. He slipped out of their attempted noose. He smirked to himself as he thought he heard frustration in their growls.

He knew this area, he knew the perfect spot to set up a trap, if only he could get there.

They were trying to circle around him again, he pushed himself, and he couldn't fall into a noose. There, he thought. He adjusted his course and made a beeline for his trap. It was within sight.

Suddenly on his left a dog seemed to explode out of the dense underbrush and make a flying leap for him. The Man's heightened reflexes saved him by a bare inch, but the dog's feet barely seemed to touch the ground before it rebounded and leapt again. The Man grabbed it as it went for his throat and hurl it to the side. It landed on all fours and stood its ground, growling.

He thought of all his options, _there are more, this one's faster, will be sure to attack, got to get to the trap_. In a second he reached his conclusion he took off, instantly the dog was after him, its pack mates came right behind.

The dog was fast, he could feel it snarling at his heels, he gave his tired body an extra burst of speed from his non existent store of strength, _there!,_ he made a flying lunge for the trigger. He set it off.

An explosion rocked him; he pressed himself against a sturdy tree trunk. He heard the dogs' yelps over the explosion. Dirt rained down on him. He curled up against the tree, his arms over his head, until the rain of dirt and noise died down.

The Man slowly opened his eyes. The dirt was churned up; there were bits of dog here and there. He stood up. He looked around. He slowly dusted himself, and shook his head, trying to get the ringing out of his ears.

The sole survivor leapt out of the underbrush, snarling and going for his throat.

The Man jerked in surprise but the "dog" caught before he could react in any meaningful way. Thinking fast he used the dog's momentum to tumble them both head over heels into the brush. The animal snarled and squirmed, the Man pinned it down with all his strength. He felt his left arm quaver slightly as he struggled to pin it down, his right hand groped for the knife attached to his chest.

It was a blur after that. It was howling, screaming as it tried to bite and gore him simultaneously, his arm swung down again and again, hacking at the heavy thick flesh of the animal. It seemed to go on forever. Finally the red haze of rage and the shower of blood and the thrashing and screaming finally stopped. The Man gave one final uncharacteristic stab out of anger. The dog twitched twice, and then didn't twitch again.

He was jonesing on adrenaline, his hands shook as he wiped and sheathed the knife. He knew that the energy he felt was false; he would crash and burn out soon. He cleaned himself up as best as he could, and headed towards the shelter he prepared.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The three hunters found the entire pack wiped out. They picked up their quarry's trail.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

After he rested and ate he resumed the hunt.

The one he wanted was the one he nicknamed "the falconer", the one with the bio-mechanical drone. A flying camera with a single red eye that spotted and positioned prey. He hated it.

Thankfully he found the Falconer alone, he killed him. It hard, long, brutal and noisy fight He worried the others would come, but in the end he managed to kill it, and scavenge his weapons.

He retreated again.

There was one of those horribly long nights, brighter than on Earth, but long and dreary, with only the weirdly quiet jungle for companionship. He did not dare light a fire. He sharpened his knives, examined his new Hunter weapons. He examined his new equipment.

The second one was much harder than the first. He thought, maybe, this one was the one that controlled the "dogs", now without his charges he thought with relish. He had snuck up on it, attacked it from behind. He was covered with mud, and the armor the madman told him would disperse his body heat. He had pumped it full of lead from his shotgun, but it still fought. He hacked at it with his newly acquired weapons, but it still tried to kill him. He smashed its protected head, hacked at his arm. It still thrashed at him.

Then the other returned to his companion.

The Man instantly retreated. He could take one, he knew, if he was lucky, but not two, and it was suicide to try. He readjusted his heat dispersing armor, and fled into the jungle. They chased him of course but as soon as he found a fresh patch of mud and a place to run, he lost them.

0o0o0o0

It took another grueling two days to finish off the one he chose, and the days and nights were longer than on Earth.

He was exhausted but still going. He kept himself well fed. He scouted tracked used every bit of knowledge he knew. The one he had savaged, and gave him a few good blows in return, was wandering the jungle, openly.

His gut told him trap. The other one was surely nearby, waiting.

He decided to make a trap of his own.

He had to be careful. He had seen other, unsuccessful, traps. He had seen the corpse of a Special Forces officer. Waiting like a spider in the web of his own clever traps, all unsprung.

His guts had been ripped out.

They are smart, he runs through every hunting trap and war trick he knows. He decides on one small one. It works. It maims but does not kill. He uses the very last of his Semtex.

He comes out of the jungle, invisible but there, and he quickly hacks off its head, then runs away before his companion can come.

0o0o0o

The last one is coming for him. He wants it to come. He lights a fire. He has done this a leader before, it has worked, but he reminds himself that they are smart, they learn. He remains uneasy.

Another part of him does not care. He wants it to come, he screams into the jungle. This might be it, but he will not just go and stay hidden, becoming slowly insane like the other man. He just can't, he won't go that quietly. If he has to go he will go taking out a few of the bastards with him, not sitting quietly in the dark gibbering to himself. He won't go insane.

_How do you know you're not already insane?_ The voice asks him. Before he can answer it comes for him.

He wants to run up to it, guns blazing. He's itching for a good fight, but he knows not to. The best way to defeat them is to hack at them. One slice at a time. Break them apart and take one, then another. He shoots but retreats into the jungle.

It takes a while, how long he can't say. The entire night possibly. He is running one vapors, drawing strength from adrenaline. The fire flickers but the gas giant casts enough light to see by.

He has burns on his skin, the Alpha male, as he thinks of him, tries his damn best to avenge his fallen comrades. No traps or pitfalls works on this one. He avoids them all. The Man manages to destroyer the shoulder-gun, and tries not get within arms reach.

He is out of ammo. He runs up, as fast as he can, and delivers his blows. Hacking away, one bit at a time. He can feel his eyes start to swell up where the Hunter punched him, he forces himself to keep going. It is chasing him, trying to slice him open. It punches him, but the armor protects him, but it's enough to crack his sternum.

He thinks dawn might be approaching but he is not sure. All he knows is that it seems a bit lighter when the pursuing hunter catches him breaks his lower ribs with one blow.

Pain explodes in his chest, shooting up like fire works in his eyes. He wants to scream in the utter agony, but he has no breath. The Hunter tries another blow on the side of his head but he manages to raise his shoulder in him.

_Focus! _He screams at himself through his haze of pain. He remembers what he has to do. With his stolen Hunter's blades he hacks through armor, with his crudely rigged bone-axe he knocks it loose. It is a useless hindrance now, the Hunter casts it off.

He knows that his grin must look like to a human, an insane madman's grin. The horrifying grin of a lunatic axe murderer, to the Hunter it is a showing of teeth, a bravado challenge. He swing the man around and breaks his femur. The Man tumbled down a narrow slope.

_Pain! Pain!_ Is the only coherent thought, this time he screams. He screams in pain and rage and other feelings he can't even began to describe, he just screams. The strongest bone in his body broken, feeling like it's just snapped in two.

He might pass out, he thinks he has for a moment, then he sees the blurry figure in front of him, standing on a fallen log. It is roaring in triumph, its mandibles spread wide. His body confidently unprotected. Every bit of his body language screams victory.

_Yes victory_, is his only coherent thought, _but mine, not yours_. Then he manually fires his last weapon, a shoulder cannon stolen from the Falconer.

It hits the Alpha Hunter square in the chest.

He wants to stay there, to pass out, to rest, but he knows he can't. His mind screams for release. Even death would be a welcome alternative to the pain. But he has one more job today. Ignoring the screaming begging of his body he crawls forward, every inch is agony, every movement is torture.

But he has one last job to do.

He manages to crawl over the smoking near corpse. He manages to crawl on top of it. It is alive, but not really stirring, he can see it's mandibles twitching. He takes out his knife and slashes its throat.

Then he passed out.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

The Elder surveyed the scene. The Prime hunter was dead, the quarry was too. The Hunters at arms gently disentangled their corpses, in the ancient way the four stood at each limb of the corpse, kneeled down in unison and planted the carryings stakes. When they joined together under the fallen Prime the four rose, again in unison, and carried the fallen hunter back to the ship with honor.

The Elder was left alone with the dead quarry. An idea had been forming in his mind lately. It was not concrete, nothing solid, but the idea was there. He wondered at it, as he did he bent down to retrieve the creature, he wanted to examine it.

He saw its odd features, somewhat familiar from all his time spent hunting, but still remarkably alien. The weird, soft mandible-less mouth, it's long nose, the thick thatch of messy hair.

Its face was relatively unmarred, although there was a swelling near the eye, where the Prime no doubt struck a blow. He could see the leg twisted at an unnatural angle, and though not visible to his eyes, he could feel the broken ribs.

He dropped it when it woke up screaming.

It was screaming at him, maybe there was pain in its voice, he couldn't tell. But the prey was clawing, trying to bite even as it fell to the ground.

It could not walk, not with that leg, but it made no attempt to run, to crawl away. It snarled at him, its teeth showing, it seemed to be reaching for a weapon, but it did not have the strength. It abruptly fell into unconscious again.

The Elder was amazed to find himself holding his breath like the lowest unblooded. He released it. He heard the Hunter at arms running back from the ship.

They called out to him. They saw the prey, looking limp and pathetic once again.

The Elder found his mandibles curving upwards in amusement, the idea that was in his head began to unfold.

He knew a lot about their kind, he observed them here and on their natural world. They were dangerous, but not because of the foolish rumors among the rank of unblooded, which gave them attributes and abilities that were clearly nonsense. Their world was small and ridiculously peaceful, at first glance, but what home world contained beasts that could rip a Hunter apart, a roiling surface that seemed perpetually angry and weather that seemed designed to kill you?

No they were dangerous because they were adaptable and clever, not all, but he suspected the planet weeded those out. They had no claws to speak of and a weak jaw, yet they ruled that dangerous little world.

It was a good idea, but could it work?

He bent down and picked up the unconscious prey, then tossed it to the nearest hunter, one of the multitudes he sired. The hunter caught it, a little stunned, and a small bit apprehensive.

"It tried to attack me," he explained calmly. "but it is weak, injured, it might die soon, I think."

The young hunter stood still, bewildered, but not wanting to question such a revered elder.

This hunter was one of his own, he was sure of it. He tried not to show favorites to the ones he sired, or the ones sired by the ones he sired, but this one was good, he thought. He had potential. How would he react?

"Take it into the ship and heal it." He ordered simply.

Now he could see the shock in the young hunter. The Elder had to act fast. He was old and wise enough -and dangerous enough- to have his orders usually obeyed by pretty much everyone. Yet this was highly unusual.

"The Prey won, the Hunter lost, this is the way of things sometimes. Why let it go to waste? Go!" he snapped, keeping the edge of rage in his voice. The young hunter had looked like he wanted to question for a moment, but then obeyed.

When the alien was completely fixed by the healers, no easy job for them, and released back into the jungle. The Elder watched him. He was dropped randomly into the preserve, not far from where the final battle took place. He was still knocked out. In his sleep he curled up in the dirt like a sleeping Hard Meat. He would be left alone, for now.

The other elder, his fellow council member came to see him again. He was curious as the rest of the warriors, curious as the lowliest unblooded. But he did not want to show it.

The Elder smirked under his mask.

When they stood long enough, watching the creature doing nothing but sleeping. His companion finally broke down.

"There is a lot of talk about this one."

The Elder made a non-committal grunt.

"There is a lot of talk about you as well." He pressed

_As I knew there would be_, he thought, but said nothing.

Finally the other elder stabbed at the heart of the matter. "They are saying that you denied the Prime his rightful kill, that you want to hunt this one and take his trophies for yourself."

"The Prime is dead."

"But this one would have still been his; the glory would have gone to his name." He argued.

"It is still alive, though."

"Only because you ordered it healed!" He could hear the exasperation in his voice, the frustration that come from not being about to understand something.

"It was unconscious when I found it, hurt yes, but still alive. Then it awoke and tried to attack me. Under that logic I could have killed it and claimed it for my own kill. But that wouldn't have been honorable, it was too weak. The healers told me it could have lived for days, maybe even quite a while after that with its injuries, it could have healed, gone on to be dangerous again."

"You don't know that."

"No, I don't, but if we left it and it did die what would he have died of? His injuries rotting him? Another prey in the jungle? It wasn't really the Prime's kill, the Prey won, it was just the way of things."

His companion shook his head, still confused. "Then why heal, why not let it die?"

"It would have been a waste, and this one is too valuable to waste." He returned to his monitor. Looking at the creature, looking at it being harmless and peaceful looking. A clever deception.

They observed for a while. Then to his companion's surprise, the Elder broke the silence.

"I've hunted them for a long time, on this planet and their homeworld. I've rarely seen one so determined, so forwardly aggressive."

His friend nodded. "It's ridiculously aggressive, almost suicidal."

He thought of the other long lived human, the one who lived in the broken terraforming drill. Yes he knew of that one. He knew every inch of "his" hunting moon. He knew the creatures that lived and survived on it. That one showed odd behavior as well. He knew a lot about their behavior. He voiced his thoughts.

"I don't think it's good for them to be alone."

His fellow council member says nothing, but seems surprised.

"They do better in packs, like our creatures. They are social animals."

"There are no others, and the scouts are not on their homeworld."

"No," the Elder corrected, "there is another."


	5. Chapter 5

The Adamah

She hoped she had killed her second Predator.

The first was the leader she managed to elude with her gift. She had covered herself in mud. She had stayed silent.

She shot him in her sniper's nest when he had gotten only 70 yards away. He had been looking for her, to add one more trophy to his collection. She shot him in the head.

_Who's head hunting who now bastard?_ She thought viciously as she extracted the shell and cocked the bolt again. She hoped it was dead. She quickly peered through the scope again. She didn't see anything, but whether because it was lying on the ground or cloaked she could not tell. She waited, one hour, then two, absolutely silent, and then left the sniper's nest.

The woman carefully checked to see her mud covering was still completely on then crept silently to where she had seen the alien fall. There was no corpse, but there was bright green blood.

She regretted waiting so long, it could have recovered, or been picked up and healed. Still saying silent she tracked the blood stains.

It became an invisible war, silent hunting and stalking. It tried to track her heartbeat, her heat. She kept her ears open and tried to look for the shimmer of his outline, the neon green of his open wounds.

It wanted to kill her very badly.

She decided to lay low. Tracking was providing frustrating, with a moment of almost overwhelming terror she thought _It will come to me._ She quelled the thought the way she always did, ruthlessly.

She stayed still for hours, not moving, barely breathing.

The Sniper heard a slight clicking.

She resisted the urge to whip her head around. She felt her hairs stand up, her heart began to race.

The only movement she allowed was the closing of her eyes. She forced herself to focus. _Calm, calm_ she admonished. The near invisible shadow, the air waver paused. _I am not here, I am safe in my nest, I am far away, I can see my target through the crosshairs. I am calm._

The invisible shadow moved again. The Woman gave an inaudible sigh.

It was exploring, thinking she was hiding in the brush like she did before. Without a sound she brought the already-cocked rifle to her shoulder. The cross hairs were aimed at what her best guess was the center of the amorphous looking mass. She fired.

The beast screamed. There was a note of pain in the screech, which she detected with joy. It was staggering. Its blood was spurting and the camouflage was faltering. She saw it aim its gun in her general direction.

_Now!_, the Woman told herself. She grabbed a rope she had woven from vine-one she had already tested her weight on- used it to drop quickly and quietly into the ground as possible.

_Wuuuh-BANG _the shoulder gun exploded above her, destroying the tree she was crouching in. _Wuuuh-BANG it_ moved randomly and shot off again, then it moved in an entirely different direction, then another and another. Setting off an angry fireworks display that dazzled and nearly blinded her.

She circled around silently as possible while it continued to angrily destroy foliage.

If it were a man she would be sure it was disabled. The Defense Force trained her to take headshots, but that was uncertain in an invisible enemy. She had shot right in the center of its mass with a .338 Lapua Magnum bullet. A human would have been taken down, this thing was still firing.

The position was far from the best, she was on good solid ground, but slightly below the creature. It turned to face her, sensing she was there and was faced with the barrel of her gun.

The Sniper fired point blank into its skull.

She could hear the bullet as it hit its metal faceplate. She was worried about that, _(who knows what it was made of?)_, but at this distance all it did was tumble the bullet inside its head. He fell like a puppet whose string was cut. It was dead.

She hovered over its corpse, feeling elation combined with shock. She had met the monster and killed it. She felt the urge to leap up and scream her victory to this strange hunting world, but she kept silent. Some of the elation wore off. Carefully she dragged the massive body into the underbrush, flung leaves and dirt over it in a 360-degree pattern. Hopefully it would not be found soon.

Then she covered her tracks and got the hell out of there. Time to dig in deep.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Now this day she was being tracked. She could feel it.

This Predator had a "hunting dog" One of the biggest she had ever seen. The Predator had it on a tough flexible leash. The dog, she knew, was following her scent, like a bloodhound. The Predator was following her visible trail.

So she took steps. She destroyed the tracks. Stopped pushing through the dense jungle to leave broken signs. She jumped in a small river-careful to keep her weapons above her head- and let it carry her downstream, then got out on a gravelly rocky bank. She back tracked over her own trail. Backtracked again. She smeared pungent leaves and berries over her body to hide her scent.

Still it came.

It must have lost her scent once of twice, but it then quickly picked it up again. _Damn it_. She cursed to herself. She was still a great deal ahead, she could see the Predator, hardly bothering to cloak most of the time, through her scope.

She ran, and kept trying to evade, hoping to lose it, but it kept coming, and she was beginning to feel tired.

Maybe that was its plan, to run her down, wait until she was too exhausted to effectively fight back

_I'll never lose them_, she thought in a moment of blind terror, _unless_… the terror suddenly turned into revelation, _unless I kill the dog._

She laid her trap.

She wanted to make her trail obvious, but no too obvious. When the "dog" followed her trail to a point she had chosen for its good visibility and the foliage she needed to hide herself, she shot it, in the guts.

_Die in agony_, she thought maliciously, as the beast howled and strained its leash to get at its tormentor. She shot at it a second time, hitting it but not producing any visible impairment in the animal. It still howled and strained as its master fought to control it.

She could not hit it a second time, the Predator was searching, aiming. It fired a shot, but it missed widely as the woman fled again.

The Woman hiked long and hard, barely stopping to rest, picking edible leaves and eating them on the run. Every so often she would climb a tall tree or rocky outcrop and scour the valley with her scope. Either it stopped or she was very far ahead of it. Still she kept going.

Then she came another stop, searched again through her scope, her heart drop as she saw it coming, it was only visible briefly as it splashed through a stream, she knew now for some reason it's cloaking didn't work with water. Then it had plunged into the jungle again, still following her trail. Still following her.

The one consolation was that it did not have its "dog" with her. It must have been too wounded to keep up. The Hunter must have put it down.

She hiked from the small valley she was in to a larger adjoining valley, the way the land was constructed it seemed to funnel along into it. When stopped again it was to check the progress of the hunter. He was still on her trail, his stamina was incredible.

It was then she realized was being herded. It was trying to push her into this larger valley. She wondered why and a horrible fear of what lay in this larger valley. Maybe it was a trap, another group of three to take her down, clean up the leavings of the last group.

One would be easier to kill than three, even though she did not have much confidence. Still one had to make a stand; she would not die running like a scared animal. She knew she would die on this godforsaken rock one day, why not today?

The Sniper took a deep breath, prepared herself and her rifle and did what she did best. She waited.

0o0o0oo0o0o0o

_He's different_. She thought. It came to her, and she fought it, got in several good shots in, but eventually had to resort to her sidearm, which was never a good idea with these beings, the calibers were way too small. Still she fought.

The Predator hesitated, which she had never seen one do. _It wants to me run, it wants to chase_. She did not comply. After nearly emptying half a clip at it she took cover behind a very large dead trunk. _I know I have one bullet left_, she thought that awful thought, an enormous sin she knew, but far from the worst thing. She slowly raised the gun.

She could see the beast through a small gap in the leaves now. It was definitely hesitating now; the brief moment of wonder caused her to pause. The two enemies stared directly at each other. She was sure it knew where she was, despite her camouflage and she could see him, despite his.

He was wounded, she could see the tell-tale green blood, but instinct told her it had a lot of fight left, like the last one.

Maybe he himself considered too wounded to continue? He began to walk away with a definite limp. She hoped to God that she killed her second Predator, but even though she was not superstitious the Woman felt something. She knew, somehow, as it walked away from their battle that this was her enemy, and felt that he was not finished yet.

She was too afraid to return to her original valley, but terrified of this larger unknown territory. After a few days consideration she plunged into it.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

She knew there were other aliens here. Once her group had killed a tall angular creature with bugs in its skin, and another time she had killed a four legged thing with ten horns that resembled something like a bizarre giant goat. As she field dressed it she thought of these creatures and felt pity. They were dumped here, alone and scared probably, like any human, only to be killed by a strange two-legged creature that had nothing to do with brining it here.

_Still_, she thought, sometimes they attack first, and it's them or me.

This creature though, stuck to the shadows. Usually the woman avoided all contact. The cockroach man and the goat-thing were all she had killed, or helped kill. She stuck to silence, to aversion. But she knew it was close. Too close.

It might attack, she thought, a knot of fear in her stomach. She knew it was a fear of this unknown thing. Who knew what it looked like, what it could do? And it appeared to be after her.

She quickly smeared herself with mud. It couldn't hurt, and could help. She headed off into the denser jungles. Hoping it would veer away, not see her trail and lose interest. It didn't

Circle around, her instructors' voices came back to her. She got ahead, then quickly circled around the whatever-it-was and stalked it, she could see the dark shape melt in the forest shadows through her scope.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

He thought the Predator was behind him now. _Clever bastard_ he thought, the thrill of the hunt in his veins. So be it, he had tricks to deal with that as well, and its infrared tracking would be hampered by the mud. He slipped into the jungle to the waterfall he had come across a few days earlier. The water might damage is mud coating, but it would also distort and throw off the cloaking device, so it would be worth the risk. And he could be careful.

He could hear the falls up ahead. He picked his way through the plant growth to it. Crystal clear water foamed up around flat rocks. He kneeled down, like he was getting a drink, but held the water in his hand and used the light reflection to see behind him. No point in spooking the quarry by turning swiftly around.

He could see the shadow following. Odd, he frowned, was it even bothering to cloak? Maybe it had grown arrogant, but that didn't strike him as likely. Perhaps it was another bizarre alien sent to test him. He would handle it, like he handled all the others.

The trail was steep, but he had been there before. He carefully stepped behind the waterfall. The spray would wash away the mud in a matter of minutes, even if he didn't touch the fall. It had to come down quickly. He smeared another coat of mud on his chest.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

The Woman grew frustrated. The alien had disappeared. She wiped her forehead, forgetting the mud coating. Sweat was starting to drip down her temples and run down her cheeks, leaving dark mud streaks. She considered just leaving, not dealing with it, but she knew the alien would not be brought here if it wasn't dangerous, and to leave it roaming around the jungle, possibly coming up on her when she was unwitting. The sniper could not allow it.

The jungle around her was dense and gloomy. There was an opening: the waterfall. The trees tried to grow over it, getting as much light as possible. She peered through the scope, but it was so dense. She sighed inaudibly; these were not her most favorable conditions. It probably went down for a drink. She thought, I can get it there, when it least suspects. She carefully picked her way down to the river.

0o0o0o0oo0o0o

He could see its water blurred silhouette. It was small, slender. So not a Predator, he thought, but still an alien. A dangerous alien he had to get rid of. He let his finger slide down the trigger guard; he wrapped it loosely around the trigger. Closer, closer, the shadow paused almost seem to turn. _Now._

The Sniper moved silently, keeping her weight on her toes. The waterfall muffled all sound, but who knew what kind of senses it had? She looked for a sign, none to be found. She paused, absorbing her surroundings. Then the water exploded to her right. She spun around and put up her unwieldy barrel.

He allowed himself a silent curse as his haste partially screwed up his element of surprise. His shoulder hit the waterfall and splashed as he made his way to the edge of the falls. He could see the alien startle. He aimed his shotgun, his finger on the trigger.

She could not raise her rifle in time, but she doubted she could even if she wanted too. She stood calmly, although she was more than agitated. She could see his great surprise as well.

The two stood facing each other. He simply didn't know what to say, he had not spoken for so long he doubted he could say anything at the moment anyway. Obviously not an alien.

He had his weapon pointed her. She recognized it, an up close kill weapon. Still with that, at this range, there was no way he would miss, and something about his manner and bearing told her he was a soldier, or had been, and was not a criminal or civilian of any sort.

She did not know what to do.

He was fascinated, he thought he was the only one, he wondered where she came from. He could feel his mouth form the words, their species name, even though no speech came out. She stood with her face like a mask, clay and mud streaking down it, her eyes shadowed. However he sensed her anxiety, and slowly lowered the barrel of his weapon.

She turned and ran.

The woman fled through the jungle. The fear she that welled up in her throat felt irrational, after such a long time of being alone…, however a memory also welled up, that of the doctor. With his air of helplessness and easy smile she nearly fell prey to him one of the most vicious creatures on this planet. She knew this creature better than any strange alien. As she ran she whispered the word of the thing she had been stalking: A wild eyed being covered so thickly in mud it seemed to be made of it.

_Adamah._

Human.

A/N: I warn there will not be an update for quite a while, however if you need your Royce/Isabelle fix, and are desperate, I do R/I fan art at DeviantArt. Look me up under LinkxNabooru4ever.


	6. Chapter 6

The Meeting

He had seen her foot prints, the hasty ones that she left when she fled. He could see later she knew how to cover her trail. He searched diligently but could not find her. He wondered about her, he wondered why she fled, then realized what he must look like. Half-crazy, aiming his weapon at her in full hunter/killer mode. He found himself feeling regret. He had long thought he was incapable of that.

He had wondered if there were other people. Now he knew, there was another.

_At last, _his mind kept saying. _At last._

He did not understand it. But he had the need to find her. Eschewing his usual patient waiting he set off, wandering the valley.

The Man barely saw any signs or trails the woman had left, it grew frustrating. She was intelligent he could tell. She left no signs for him to follow except the ones hastily left in her fleeing. He found himself wishing she did not run. His own words came back to mock him: "I'm better off alone."

Finally he needed a rest. He sat down on a fallen log near a stream. He rinsed the mud, sweat and grime off of his face.

An extra since honed from years of combat ran up his back and told him something was watching him.

Keeping his weapon lowered, he slowly turned around.

She was standing there. Unlike before her barrel was aimed straight at him.

He kept his lowered somehow sensing she did not want to shoot. She was studying him, he decided to return the opportunity. She was dressed in all black She was tall, although shorter than him, she was slender (he suddenly, heatedly thought of the slender shadow he saw through the waterfall) but her form suggested strength. She had long tendrils of hair that escaped from her braid hanging around her face.

_At last._

He stepped forward. She drew back, keeping the barrel raised. Sniper for sure, he thought. He took a gamble. "You wanna lower the weapon?" he asked sardonically. For a moment he wondered if she spoke English. Then she gave a mysterious smile and shook her head. She smiled through the tendrils of black hair, a Mona Lisa smile.

"Suit yourself." He said gruffly and shouldered his shot gun. He hiked through the jungle. He caught a glimpse of wonder in her eyes. She lowered the barrel muttered something under her breath and hiked after him.

He led, she followed. He noted how silently she moved. He said nothing, finally she appeared to break down. In a low throaty voice she asked; "So they drop you in too?"

He knew she was simply making conversation, the need to chatter with a fellow primate, but he thought of where he was heading, and why it was empty of its occupant. He answered simply, "Yes."

They walked on in silence, then finally she asked "Are you in the service?"

That brought a sort of smile to his face. Not a real smile, but close to one. "Not exactly" he answered.

He thought of the woman, her clothes, no standard uniform, all black, black ops? Probably. She obviously spoke English fluently. Her accent, couldn't quite place that, but a sniper for sure. She was careful, quiet. He sensed her watching him in the jungle. She probably had eagle eyes, that could be useful. Wonder what kind of sniper a woman made, then it clicked, he placed her.

"Are you IDF?" he asked. His analytical skills were rarely wrong.

A look of surprise flashed quickly across her face. "Yeah," then she looked at her surroundings with the barest hint of unease. "Where are we going?" she asked politely. She had kept all anxiety at of her voice.

"Home." He answered simply.

The Woman wondered at the man she was following, then wondered at herself for following him. He could be crazy, dangerous. She corrected herself, he _was_ dangerous. Danger emanated from him like an aura. But whether that danger could ever be directed towards her she did not know. She knew she was risking herself.

And yet, she thought of when she was first dropped here. All the people she was with quickly came together, running together like molecules, like water droplets. There was a need, a fundamentally human urge to rejoin, form a group. Even among killers and psychos. It was so innate they did not question it.

Now the last two were coming together, she thought.

Maybe he would try to prey on her, like the doctor, capitalizing on that urge, turn it into a weakness. She had watched him wander threw the jungle. He was searching for her, of that she had no doubt, but of course he would never find her, unless she wanted to be found. He was ipen about it. Looking openly, making no secret of it. From her hidden position she could have blown his head off anytime she wished. He did not seem to care.

It was comforting, unless that in itself was a trap.

The Woman tried to still her thoughts and over analyzing. He was a soldier, or had been. "Not exactly", had been his words. She studied him closer, it clicked: Mercenary, a real hardcore one.

That explains a lot, she thought. Suddenly she was comforted, if he was a helpless innocent seemingly dropped here by mistake then she'd be worried. It seemed a straight forward case. She followed him until the couple came upon a strange structure.

They gazed upon it. "What is it?" she asked.

"It's a drill someone left behind." He merely repeated what the madman told him. He climbed up to it and opened an entrance. He climbed in.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

The woman considered. He knew what she was thinking. Going into a dark unkown place with a man she just met. Finally she seemed to accept. It was shelter, the only one she knew of in this valley. He helped her up.

They did not talk. Later he showed her a route out, just in case. Just in case _They_ came. She did not ask who _They_ was. The man and woman sat outside, not talking, not touching, but watching the huge planet and it's many moons rise in the night sky.

As he fell asleep his last thoughts were _At Last_.


	7. Chapter 7

The Champion

"It is coming."

The Adamah's words were simple and direct. Everything about him was that way.

"I'm searching." She replied simply. The scope mounted on her rifle whirred as it adjusted automatically.

The next day they were out doing what he called "foraging." Looking for anything; food, supplies, weapons, anything that could be useful. It was a large game preserve, with lots of dangerous things in it.

"It's trying to lure us out." He hissed.

To her enormous relief she had slept through the night unbothered in that odd thing he called a drill. She was able to stay awake and vigilant for most of the night, but eventually she moved into another room and slept. When she awoke the Adamah-the other human-was gone. She was worried at first, but he soon appeared. Unharmed and expectantly looking at her to join him for foraging. A madman like the doctor probably would have tried something by now.

So she found she could trust him, at least a little bit. That didn't change the fact she knew nothing about him. Not even his name.

He scope and eyes adjusted automatically to the figure in the gloom. Tall, angular creature.

"One o'clock, one-hundred meters."

"Take him!" the man ordered, the creature disappeared into the mist again.

"Damnit," she grunted, hefting her rifle.

In her mind she called him The Adamah, which meant 'the human', and a slight pun on his regular habit of coating himself in mud, or Ish, which simply meant Man. He did not ask for her name. She had yet to ask for her his.

It had been a busy morning.

The Man's eyes narrowed. He glanced at her, and then stepped out of the jungle.

"What are you doing?" she hissed in amazement. He glanced at her coldly, "Don't miss." He said simply, and began to run.

The dark angular shadow sprang after him. The Woman did not hesitate. Instantly years of training and experience kicked in. She began tracking, focusing, she had the creature in her sights, she mentally adjusted for her target's speed, she timed to shoot between her heartbeats. Her aim was perfect_. Now._

She fired the angular creature dropped. Isabelle kept her eye focused through the scope, then glanced up, a sigh of relief in her throat. One that was not quite ready to be exhaled.

The Man appeared from the jungle. Not the slightest bit of fear or regret marred his features. He looked down at her with his cold eyes. "Nice shot." He said. There was sincerity in his voice, but there was also a lack of care that seemed oddly disturbing to her. She rose gracefully from rice paddy position, and dusted herself off. The Woman knew then that whatever this Man was he was not afraid of death. He had no fear.

0o0o0o0o0o

"So, you got a name?"

It was not the first time she had asked this. It had been earlier this morning when he brought her out of his "home", but he had not answered. He changed the subject, informing her of the exits, where she could go to relieve herself, all the practical things she needed to know living there. Then they had climbed up to the "roof" and watched for any landing ships. A pointless little ritual he liked to keep up.

For some reason he did not feel to answer. He was relieved to have found another person, he admitted that to himself. He just wasn't sure he wanted to start making attachments.

He wasn't a sociopath, he knew that. He also knew he could be cold ruthless and uncaring. He was sure she knew this by now.

Yet still she asked for his name.

He didn't want to deal with this. Not now, maybe not ever, but something inside of him told him he would have to.

The Man changed the subject again. "We're almost there."

The trees were in fruit, he had noticed that a few days ago. This was tropical jungle, so there didn't seem to be much in seasons, still different fruit would come in and different times of the year. Now he had an extra pair of hands to help him harvest.

"Breakfast." He told her. He almost smiled, but did not.

They worked through most of the morning. They both kept their eyes and ears open. Just in case the creature she shot wasn't the only thing lurking about. The sun slowly, but steadily grew higher. The woman wiped the sweat from her forehead.

After eating and gathering the Man led her to another part of the valley.

"There's a series of caves there. Could be something useful in them. Let's check it out." She followed him without another question.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

He watched the pair with interest. He had lost track of them for days and days, but eventually he found them again in "his" game preserve. He knew most of their hideouts by now. He could find them now only in a matter of hours.

Of course he would keep this information to himself, not share it with the other hunters. If they wanted to hunt them they had to do it on their own skills and merits. He didn't think any would catch them. Perfect.

Nor was he saving this information for himself. He was the oldest and therefore most knowledgeable hunter on this moon. He knew its territory and no doubt he could find them anytime he wished, and he stood a very good chance of hunting and killing both of them, but that's not what he had in mind.

He had herded the huntress, the Quiet One, into this valley. He had to put down a damn fine hunting dog thanks to her, not to mention the injuries he had sustained at her hands. What a lovely trophy her delicate skull would have made on his wall! But he had restrained himself. If he was younger and more ambitious he doubted he could resist.

When, at his insistence, they had healed the other one, the fierce wiry one who fought at every other opportunity, he had visually examined him. Now he knew for certain he was male. He had long known _their _sexual dimorphism was the opposite of his species, still he had made sure. Then he moved to phase two of his grand plan.

One day, he thought, he would remembered as a great genius for what he would do, like the great ancestors who had discovered their hunting companions, like the ones who split off from the weakling false hunter race, taking only the fiercest hunters and biggest females with them. He thought of the deeds of his fathers, great warriors, farseeing visionaries. When his plan came to fruition he would be looked upon with the awe the hunters had for such great ancestors. Not to mention the female attention…he felt his mandibles curl with pleasure at the thought.

After all when one lived as long as he hunting lost some of its savor, he needed, another way to secure glory and honor, this way was perfect.

There was one flaw though, one that caused a shadow of unease to pass through him. The male, the fierce fighter, had such a reputation he was still attracting inordinate attention. They were planning another hunt, sending in a champion. He was glad the female was with him now.

He tossed his head, feeling his long mane sweep across his back. If the male was worthy, he would live. If not…well there were more of them were he came from.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

At night she dreamed.

She dreamed of shooting, she dreamed of Isaac. She dreamed of being watched from the shadows, of a bright light. She dreamed she was flying over a vast expanse of stars of being unceremoniously pushed out of a ship. She was falling again. They had taken her.

_No._

But she was helpless; there was nothing she could do.

_No._

Soon the hunt would begin again.

"NO!"

"Hey, hey, relax, it's just me."

The Sniper jerked awake, ready to fight in an instant then relaxed. In the same instant she took in her surroundings, it was only the Man. She studied his now familiar features; the long nose, the thin angular face. At first glance his eyes were dark, shadowed, now she saw they were a light color, hazel. His eyebrows were up in what might have been worry. But it was brief, his expression soon settled again. Gently he removed his hand from her shoulder.

The Woman groaned as she sat up. He stomach felt as if it might rebel against the dinner of wild fruit and rice they had discovered (the only useful thing of their foraging) but she repressed it. She delicately took a sip of water. The Man sat back on his heels and studied her neutrally.

The Sniper knew he was being silent for a reason. She was uncomfortable. After she finished her drink she stated only the obvious. "I was dreaming."

"Yes I know." He said dryly in his rough voice. She felt like snapping at him but restrained herself.

"Did you know what I was doing when I was captured?" She asked suddenly. He made no response, just continued to stare at her.

"I was on assignment when my spotter, Isaac, was captured. I could have tried to save him, but if I did I would have been killed along side him. So I hid, stayed silent, and saved myself. Now I wish to God I would have pulled the trigger."

He wasn't touched by her little confession. He shrugged and helped himself to more rice. "You do what can to survive."

She leaned. "That's not what I meant."

"Well, what did you mean then?" He asked with a hint of irritability.

She lowered her eyes for a moment. Then stared directly into his cold hard eyes. "What I mean is that this life we've been living, hunting aliens and gathering fruit is going to end soon."

He felt the rice turn hard and sticky in his throat. He swallowed it, hard and tried not to let it affect him.

"Things are going to get much, much worse for us."

He stayed silent, and it wasn't because of disagreement.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

When he came all knew of it.

Even the Elder respected his skills, even though deep inside of him he wished to see the arrogant one fail.

Purger, hunter of the strange and exotic, father of multitudes. Undefeated.

The Champion.

He came because of the rumors, rumors of an abundant source of conflict and prey here. He came because he heard of one creature that could give him a decent challenge, and of course add another trophy to his wall. He swaggered in and demanded details.

The other younger hunters, in awe, told him of all they knew. There was a creature on the Game Preserve who hunted like them, took trophies like them. He stole their prey, sometimes right out from under them. He was small, compared to a Hunter, and scrawny by their standards. But all who had tried to hunt him had been killed or come back to the bas ashamed and disappointed. He evaded all traps, avoided all hunting dogs. He fought and won, and lived.

They called him Da'bade, the Knife Blade. Thin but sharp.

Immediately the champion went to bragging. Of course he would kill this creature; of course he would mount his skull and spine on his wall. All he needed was time, and not even much of that.

The Elder watched his unknowing foe with detached skepticism. What a braggart. Of course he had no shortage of things to brag about this Champion, but the way he did it, his unseemly crowing about himself. The Elder found it distasteful. The young ones were even worse, little sycophants, and he detested the name "Knife Blade."

The Elder was a Hunter of many surprises he had one in store now. No one else knew of Quiet One, or his plans. But he had one more surprise in store for "the Champion."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

A/N: I had pretty bad writer's block on this one but I think it's gone now, hopefully. I decided to split The Champion into two parts, so sorry, action packed stuff is yet another chapter away.

By necessity some dialogue has to be lifted from the movie. I hope you won't take this as plagiarizing.

Reviews will be appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

FA/N: This chapter is dedicated to jen, whose review helped me get off my ass and write this.

The Champion 

Part 2

She still didn't know his name.

It annoyed her, she privately referred to him as Adamah, Ish, or lately "Smiles"; a nickname meant to be ironic of course.

He was tough, dedicated and ruthless. She knew he was determined not to form attachments; that he survived so long alone but she was still steeped in the training of teamwork. She wanted to tell him he was being foolish, that two was better than one, that they might need each other soon.

But she did not.

Then one day he left unexpectedly.

She was worried of course, she searched everywhere for him, then she found him, nonchalantly scouting a ridge. She had demanded why he had left without telling her. He seemed mildly surprised, then irritated.

"Look you wanna do this, you wanna play teammates? Fine, but I'm not doing this" He demanded. Then half to himself; "I'm better off on my own."

The Woman felt herself rising to the bait. "Fine." Was all she said. "Fine." Before turning away.

They did not know how foolish it was then to split up.

0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o

The Champion was dropped off randomly in the game preserve. He had to find the prey by his own wits or not at all.

He was excited, the hunt always excited him, and something told him this would be a special challenge. His blood sang in anticipation. The path of the hunt seemed spread out before him, clear, pure. As it always was, as it should be.

He had to start searching for his prey, this human, the one they called Da'bade. He cloaked himself in their spectrum that only their strange eyes could see. He began to seek out animal trails read signs, detect the slightest spore.

It was a process that could take days, unless he was incredibly lucky. But he was patient, impatient hunters did not last long. He visualized its skull mounted on his wall, he sent forth his drone.

Then one day luck favored him at last.

The drone sent back it image when it landed on his wrist, no mistaking _that_ heat signature. He let out a roar of triumph through the silent jungle

0o0o0o0o0o0

The Man was hunting. Another hunt, another alien creature. It was almost getting boring.

Almost.

He wondered of the woman, he had not seen her around for a while. He almost regretted his actions.

No not almost, did He admitted to himself. He was lonely, although thankfully he wasn't so lonely he was worrying himself out of sanity again. He wondered where that woman was, what she was doing, if she was alright.

He wondered what possessed him to say he was better off alone.

He was pondering this at his trophy collection by the waterfall when he saw something out of the corner of his eye.

It flew by fast. His head swiftly and automatically turned around to track it. He managed to glimpse it for another second before it disappeared again. _Birds,_ he said to himself, then immediately dismissed that line of thought. No bird flew that swift, besides there were hardly any in the game preserve anyway.

That icy feeling ran up his spine. That feeling, that instinct that had kept him alive all his days, kicked again. He knew with gut certainty that it was happening again. He was being hunted.

He grabbed his spear and fled into the jungle.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The Woman did not want to kill again, and she thought she would not like to kill ever again, but that was a ridiculous and foolish vow, one she was sure to break. She knew this in a place that was deep down, a place she did not like to look. From which a voice whispered; _you enjoy it._

Besides she was hungry.

Maybe it was a stupid reason. She thought of these creatures here, one shouldn't kill them except in self defense. They weren't here because they enjoyed killing humans. The other creatures were here because the Predators wanted to hunt them. In a way, she was in the same boat as them.

That hadn't stopped her before.

Besides this one didn't look dangerous, it didn't even look sentient. It looked somewhat like a deer. Venison. She was hungry, he stomach growled.

She had studied her reflection as best as she could in the river's waters. It wasn't her imagination, she was definitely thinner. Her clothes hung more loosely, her cheekbones stood out in her face. Last night she dreamed of eating a huge steak. Months of rice and fruit and wild herbs had taken their toll. She was protein starved, she was hungry.

She decided as it grazed harmlessly on some leaves. She took aim through her scope, one shot one kill. A virtue of her rifle was that it did not waste ammunition, but she knew to conserve it.

A single shot echoed through the jungle.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

His ribs hurt. They had not hurt since the Woman came.

He was sure the pain was psychological, he was remembering the last time he was prey. How one punch from a Hunter had broke several of his ribs. How they had once snapped his femur, the strongest bone in his body, in two.

Such thoughts brought up uneasy questions. He should have woken up in the jungle with those ribs and femur still broken. They should still be healing. Instead he woke up completely healed. He was even clean.

If he strained his memory he remembered, or thought he remembered, one of those ugly crab-faces starting down at him through a haze of panic and pain, but he did not know what that meant. All he knew was that when he awoke he had been healed of all injuries, and free to wander the preserve again.

He did not like the implication of this for some reason.

But there was no time to worry about this. His survival instincts were screaming at him. He promptly covered himself in mud and fled into deeper jungle. He knew he was being hunted again, probably being watched. He had to go to ground before he could be discovered.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The Champion had his prey; the drone gave its last co-ordinates in the preserve. He now had its trail. He could track it now. He blood sang louder in his veins, the anticipation of victory hummed in his brain. The path was spread out in front of him, clearer and sharper than ever.

He could see its small, narrow footprints here, random, not running. When it made these it did not know it was being hunted. He tracked it to the river, the waterfall. The Champion paused, this could possibly be a good hiding spot, or even a trap. He cloaked and descended from the trees to investigate.

At first he was baffled. The sticks sharpened at both ends, the bizarre range of skulls adorning them. The newest looked only a few hours old.

Was there another Hunter here? The thought briefly enraged him. Another Hunter poaching his game! But no, he was being foolish, there were no other Hunters here. He had enough clout for that but why this primitive looking display? This arrangement of what looked like trophies?

Then the thought dawned on him.

He had heard the rumors of course; they were what brought him here practically half way across the galaxy? He had heard this creature was hunting _their_ game now. Flaunting it practically. Now he found the results of its hunts.

He allowed himself a laugh. No end of surprises from this creature. Did it fancy itself one of the Hunters too? He felt an almost-affection for it. Too bad it's hunting career would soon be over. The path now burned brightly ahead of him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was a skirmish, a small one, yet it had nearly cost him his life.

It had ambushed him nearly caught him off guard. Oh this one was good alright. They had fought briefly. He had found his stashed away combat shotgun (with so few shells left!), if he had not found it before he would have been dead.

It had chased him through the jungle, through the trees until he came across that unexpected drop off that he tumbled down into the river, crawled through the mud and hid, absolutely silent.

It had been distracted temporarily by the heat signature of a small creature. When it pursued that, thinking it was a bit of the prey it sought the hunted man crawled silently away and lost it.

Now he knew he needed help.

He heard the shot, a single shot from a sniper rifle. Like the well trained soldier he was he triangulated it and headed towards it. He prayed she was not dead before he found her.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

She had worries about its taste, or even about its edibility, but she had been wrong to worry on both counts. The Woman felt much better having eaten. But she did not let her guard down.

She was cleaning her rifle down when he came. He came behind her, but she did not hurry, no Hunter moved through the bush so loudly.

"How'd it taste?" came the rough voice behind her.

She kept the amusement out of her response and did not bother to turn around. "Not bad, although my cooking skills aren't anything to brag about." She thought she heard a snicker, before his noisy stumble. She turned around and found herself catching him, easing his fall to the ground.

He was covered in mud, a trickle of blood was smeared messily over his face. She gasped, studying him. Then a sickening realization. "Are they _here_?" she asked in horror. The Man only nodded. The Woman's hand flew to her mouth for a brief second, then she went to work with a speed that was astonishing. She smothered her coals, hid the carcass of her kill and quickly smeared mud over herself. The Man cleaned up his wound and reapplied his protective layer of mud as well.

They waited. The Man recuperated from his exhaustion and told her his story. The Woman shared her kill.

"So, only one?" she asked.

"Yeah, a smart, fast dangerous one." He took another bite.

"Why now?"

"Who knows? Why only one, when they usually come in threes?"

The sniper was silent, thinking.

"And you want my help in killing it."

He paused and smiled, very briefly, "If it's not too much trouble."

She could have done it, thrown his words back in his face, but she did not. Words, a verse, half remembered came back to her. _Two are better than one…for if they fall, the one will lift his fellow, but woe unto him who falls alone_. She knew she could not refuse him, this Adamah, the only other human being on this wretched planet.

"So, what is the plan?"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The Elder paced, restless. He had not had to wrestle with such a decision in his long, distinguished career as a Hunter. Ever. He would never thought he would have to. But then again his plan was almost unprecedented. The brilliance of it almost made him smile again. But it did not help ease the decision.

What was considering was against Hunter law. Punishable by banishment, perhaps even death. Worse, he could lose his honor if they found out.

_If_ they found out.

He studied the armor and weapons before him. Small, as if made for a child, a scrawny child. Specially made. He had to scale it down, especially for him, his pet project.

His human champion.

He had worried. The one the other Hunters nicknamed Da'bade had never lost before, but that was no guarantee. He had the Quiet One with him, but that was no guarantee either. Worse case scenario he could lose them both. The Champion was yet undefeated too, and determined to add another human skull to his collection.

So why not give his pet project a little help against the arrogant Hunter he so despised?

_Because it's illegal that's why._

And whatever sense of morality he had was offended of by the ideas of helping a Prey against the Hunter. It offended Hunter standards, and he was nothing but an exemplary Hunter.

In fact he was determined to become the best.

It was odd it started out as a vague idea, a side project, then became more and more important as this specimen survived his challenges and thrived upon the Game Preserve. It became even more important as he discovered the female, as he grew older, as the Hunt grew more boring, as he had his legacy to think of.

He wanted the human to succeed.

Sure he could start over, but where would he find one, if not two such proven specimens? He stopped pacing his quarters and glanced at the armor. It shined dully in the light.

The Elder made his decision.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

He had promised to take first watch, but she shot him down. He was grateful because he was tired.

He awoke in the middle of the night, the planets, moons and stars glared coldly down at him. The Woman was awake, but curled up next to him. He glanced at his shotgun propped up on a tree near him.

_Oh shit._

The thought seemingly came for no reason, a second before realization struck him. The Hunter decloaked right in front of him. The Woman scrabbled for her rifle, he his shotgun. But it was too late, too late.

The Hunter, clicking and growling placed the bundle before them, then stepped in the shadows and recloaked before he could be shot.

The two humans quickly scanned their forest clearing, adrenaline pumping in their veins. They were met with nothing, only silence.

_Shit, shit, shit_. The litany went through his head. _That was fucking close,_ still he scanned in all direction, expecting an attack any moment, from any direction. Still there was only nothing.

"Look." Her voice was filled with wonder, not fear. But he snapped his head toward her all the same.

She was looking at the bundle on the ground.

His brain jarred for a moment, he remembered the Predator, the bundle in his arms placing it before them, then disappearing. It was weird; they were always fighting, attacking. This one had done neither.

He stepped toward it.

The sniper immediately put her hand on his arm. He looked down at her. Saw the fear in her deep brown eyes. "It could be a trap."

He considered it, then rejected. Such obvious traps were not their style. He couldn't get the strange image out of his head. It appeared, left something, then disappeared.

It _wanted_ them to have this.

He carefully nudged it open with his toe. The Woman kept her rifle trained on it.

One of their masks came out, then armor and-his eyes widened- one of their energy beam weapons.

He and the woman glanced at each other. He turned the mask in his hands, his mind working furiously. The Hunter had given weapons and armor to him, why?

The Woman commented: "It's made for you." She pointed out. "See how skinny it is?" At his raised eyebrow, she added, "-in comparison to theirs?"

She was right, before and armor he had stolen fitted loosely on him. He put the mask on and saw the world through _their_ eyes. "You're right." He told her.

She glanced around the jungle nervously again. "Why would he hunt you, then help you out?"

The Adamah was silent for a moment. "It's not the same one." He realized. He looked around as well. "This was somebody else."

She said nothing in response to that.

He put the rest of the armor on. He didn't know how or why but he had it.

Time to face the Lone Hunter.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

It was sunrise, barely, grey dawn.

Neither had gotten much sleep since the incident last night, although the Woman had slept a little when he took up watch. Mostly they talked into the night while he tried on the armor. He couldn't read the symbols in the display, and it was truly bizarre the way the mask portrayed heat as colors, but it was amazing how it automatically pinpointed targets and moved the shoulder cannon to his every whim. He thought of such technology back on Earth, what it would do, what its effects would be.

The sniper related a story through the long night. The story of the soldier who had defeated one of the monsters in the jungles of Earth. It confirmed what he already guessed. That they loved a challenge, that they had a twisted sense of honor. That they would lower themselves to your level, if they thought you worthy.

_Foolish mistake,_ he thought.

The man targeted a rock for practice and fired.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

He breathed in the morning air, greeted the rising sun, and set off.

This was the day he knew, the day he would meet the creature and defeat him. No more running, no more hiding. He roared his challenge to the morning sky.

He was a clever one, sure enough, clever enough to evade him yesterday. How frustrating it was to have to double back and try to pick up his cold trail in the darkness. But he found it again, as he knew he would. The path lay ahead of him again, leading him to his next victory. He followed it.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

He glanced up at the slowly rising sun. Impatient. He wanted the encounter to be over with.

At least that's what he told himself.

The blood sang in his veins, his mind hummed with the prospect of victory.

He went over the plan with her again.

"And if it survives it?" She asked, worried.

"Nothing with a spine can survive it." He assured her. "Just stick to it, and shoot as well as you say you do."

The sniper said nothing, she just smiled he Mona Lisa smile.

0o0o0o0o0o

The path led him to the human, the one nicknamed Da'bade. Victory seemed assured, he felt the cold, clear rush of the hunt.

He was nearby, he could feel it.

The Champion scanned carefully. There were fires lit and scattered in deliberate effort of randomness, meant to confuse. He scanned each carefully making sure there was no prey lurking behind each one. His shoulder burner carefully scanning with him. Nothing.

When he was in the correct position the blast came from behind.

He roared in pain and rage, he knew these creatures had no honor but he felt the anger and humiliation of being caught off guard all the same.

He spun around, (luckily his armor had taken most of the damage), and he tried pinpointing the blast, but before he could another blast hit him. He jumped, avoiding a third blast, and this finally allowed him to pinpoint its source. He scanned and allowed his computer tot triangulate, he fired.

Something, he couldn't see what exactly, broke the camouflage of the surrounding jungle to avoid his attack. He tracked it and fired again. It fired back.

For a moment he thought his initial assumption of another Hunter in the preserve was correct, but slowly, almost insolently the figure decloaked, and his sense of outrage was renewed.

It looked, absurdly, like a child playing at being an adult Hunter. Except the armor, his eyes narrowed, but he was sure it seemed downsized, almost tailored to its size, but he dismissed such a ridiculous thought. He was angrier at it having captured some of their armor to use against him. This was a dangerous animal indeed, one that had to be dispatched quickly.

After it showed its true form it recloaked and headed into the jungle.

He wanted to run after it right away, but something stopped him. He watched its blurred figure head off into the forest it gave the impression of pell-mell running panic, but perhaps after its insolent over-confident display that's what it merely wantedto portray.

The path, slightly altered now, was still clear before him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o

The Man ran, zigzagging, slightly trying to give the impression of extreme fear.

_Take the bait you ugly bastard._

He just hoped the sniper hit what she was aiming at.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

He kept to the trees and observed, keeping a tight reign on his desire for that little monster's skull. Careful, patient, one step at a time on the path.

The Champion could track its path, but barely as a blurry figure running through the jungle. The red lines of the tracking device blurred trying to get a lock on it, and then it slipped away.

Suppressing a curse, he followed it through the trees.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

She saw his blurry figure hide, and knew her time had come. She did her quick silent breathing regimen, and slowed he heart beat down, down as low as it could go. She stayed absolutely still and silent. The plan was clear, she could not fire prematurely.

She focused on the cross hairs, not a leaf stirred in her hiding spot.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was clever hiding like that, absolutely still in its stolen armor. So still and perfectly camouflaged it could not be seen.

What it didn't count on was the sonic heart detector.

It seemed to realize at the last second what was happening. It exclaimed something and dodged, but it was not fast enough.

The creature's hiding place absorbed some of the impact, the rest was transferred into motion. It deliberately dove for cover, but it was pushed through the air then plowed into the ground. It struggled for the moment, gasping for breath. It struggled again.

_Now!_ The path was dead obvious, he could go for the kill now. The Champion leaped from his perch and rushed. The human turned, tried to focus as it cloak fell away from it and it's damaged burner tried to get a lock on him. But The Champion was too fast.

One blow crushed the burner, another straight to the chest had it down and flailing. Another methodical hammer blow, another, another. He stretched it out enjoyed it. You were good human, but not good enough. He wanted to enjoy his victory. He carefully knocked aside it's mask and looked into it's strange ugly face. He grasped its neck and focused with his blades. This had to be perfect.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

She nearly screamed a warning when it hit, but controlled herself. She watched as it took down the Man. Watched him being knocked to the ground, brutally beaten again and again.

She flashed to Isaac, she could stay quiet, hide and live, or fight and die.

Then it decloaked in triumph, it wanted his prey to see him. To be the last thing it saw.

Her breathing was perfect, her heart beat did not disturb the crosshairs, she focused, and fired.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Then the shot hit him right in his midsection.

He felt the blow as if it were a perfect hard punch in his abdomen. He was utterly bewildered for a moment, and then felt the damage to his insides; he automatically turned and fired on the attacker from behind. A small slender form barely dodged and escaped the brush it was concealed under.

His first coherent thought was _no fair!,_ his second was immediately dismissing his first thought as childish and pointless. So there was another human. He would take care of it after…

He turned back remarkably quickly, considering his gut wound. Just in time to see wrist blades slash at him. So the human had those too. All he saw was its brightness, slashing down upon him again and again.

Then there was nothing, except the path, the cold, clear path that burned brightly all of his life. It had ended abruptly into darkness. Then the path fell away beneath his feet and the darkness spread over everything.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

He came to her, she was wounded, but thankfully not badly. She had propped herself against a large boulder. He staggered over to her, checked her wounds. She groaned in pain.

"Is it dead?"

A smile came to his lips. "Yeah."

He felt a rush of affection towards her for saving his life, this woman he had rejected not long before. His hand trailed down her face.

He realized then that they did not even know each others' names.

"I'm Royce." He said simply.

She huffed out a laugh and smiled her Mona Lisa smile.

"Nice to meet you Royce, I'm Isabelle."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

A/N: This chapter was heavily inspired by the after-movie comic _Preserve the Game_, and yes I cribbed the name-exchange ending from the movie, it was too awesome not to use.


	9. Chapter 9

The Feud

They had lost another one.

His one piece of luck was that they were able to retrieve the body, the False Hunters had not yet desecrated it, but the Hunter had died a horrible death on a faraway rock, captured and tortured. Then tied to a False Hunter totem and left to die of starvation, dehydration and exposure.

They had recovered the body during a counter raid.

The Elder watched as they carried him away, one carrier at each corner of his body. No show of grief was expressed of course, such was forbidden, but the Elder could feel it inside, the way one of theirs' met such a dishonorable death. Rage pooled in the center of his chest.

War did occur between the clans, it was exceedingly rare however, unless you counted female squabbling for hunting territory. (The Elder like most males, didn't.) Ritualized combat and one-on-one challenges kept clan feuding to a minimum.

He didn't know what caused the original split with the False Hunters, it was too far in the dim and distant past even for an elder like him to recall, all he knew was that they had split. They had left the original Homeworld and done something unprecedented; taken females and pups with them to a new world. They had bred themselves be bigger, stronger, better. They used this moon to hunt the ultimate prey of all kinds and to adapt their tactics and learn. They had found their hunting partners on a dying world and had tamed them. Only they had earned the right to be called Hunters.

The False Hunters, however, had gallingly continued to exist. Raiding them, destroying their dogs and torturing their most promising young warriors into a dishonorable death. No True Hunter wanted that, even the bravest, those who laughed in the face of the darkness during the most grueling hunts, wanted to go like that.

The Elder wanted his plan to succeed when he saw the twisted remains of the young hunter. He had become more and more invested in its success; to the point of doing something illegal and helping subvert the victory of The Champion. He wished he could do more, but it was up to his two creatures now.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Tell me again." She asked.

They sat together looking at the night sky, the tips of their knees barely touching, hoping, and dreaming.

Royce scanned the stars and the brightly glowing Jupiter-like planet. He took a moment of silence, and then recounted his story.

"It was after the madman died. I had found a totem, and this time I knew what they did on it."

He paused to take a gulp of water.

"They had chained up one of their own kind- except he was different."

"Different how?"

"Smaller, different face somewhat," he shrugged, "Noland said it was like the difference between dogs and wolves."

Isabelle silently pondered this.

"Anyway, I cut him down, I gestured to the ship. It seemed to understand. It used a thing on its wrist-looked like a computer of sorts-punched a few buttons and a picture of Earth popped up. The ship started and I was home free." He paused again.

"Then what happened?" Isabelle asked gently.

A dark look crossed his face. "The other one showed up."

He took another drink of water. Isabelle let him continue.

"I ran, the two fought, I almost made it. Almost."

"What happened?"

He paused. "Gut feeling, I knew who would win. The smaller one was weakened, broken by its torture. The bigger one would win, and then I'd be screwed." Royce gave a humorless laugh and ran his hand through his hair. "I was right, soon as it won it came to the ship, punches few buttons on his wrist and 'boom' my escape is wreckage." He shook his head. "I've never seen them land after that."

They watch the night sky as a meteor suddenly streaked across it.

Isabelle made a silent wish.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"They will fall before us, each and every False Hunter, cut down by our blades!" The warrior raised his fist, his wrist blades shot out suddenly. "Each and every False Hunter!" came the cry and simultaneously fists punched the air and wrist blades came out with the sound of ringing metal and audible sharpness.

The Elder watched, a hint of cynicism crept into his pride, each and every False Hunter? That would be quite the accomplishment.

_Unless-_

His thoughts were cut off by the arrival of his companion. He thought suddenly of confiding his plan to his friend, then swiftly decided against it. He would when the time came.

"An excellent turnout." He observed. "Many young hunters had to be turned down by the council their were so many volunteers for this counter-raid"

The Elder nodded, "One of our was found dead by dishonorable means, now many want to gain the honor of capturing a False Hunter and hunting and giving it a dishonorable death."

"I saw the corpse." His companion said with a hint of quietness, then added stoically, "such is the path."

The Elder shocked him by responding; "No! The path is not this. The path is _hunting_, that's what we were born to do. What we were bred to do. Not this, not this war, this _feud_." He spat out the word. "This fight that takes all of our best hunters and gives them dishonorable deaths, their bodies thrown out by our enemies like bad blood criminal trash!"

His companion clicked thoughtfully, surprised by his Elder Hunter's passion on the subject.

The Game Warden, the Hunter appointed by the council to run and oversee the Game Preserve

Moon approached, having heard the Elder's tirade.

"And what would you have us do, Elder?" he asked rhetorically. "Stop the feud, invite the False Hunters to use out moon? Proclaim ourselves blood brothers?" the contempt in his voice betrayed every True Hunter's aversion to such ridiculous ideas.

"No." the Elder said indignantly, his mandibles flared slightly at the Wardens insolent tone. "I simply propose to finish those insects-once and for all."

"Which we will!" The Warden declared, pumping his fist.

The Elder suddenly had the urge to disclose his plan, stronger this time. He knew the reason for his cynicism, it had always been like this, raid, counter- raid, raid, counter- raid. Boasting, skirmishing, minor things, nothing that would take care of the problem as a whole. A grim metronome of fighting that went on back and forth, back and forth, long before his time. Long before the oldest living Hunter was just sap in his father's rod,* and even longer before that.

Then the urge passed. When the time came, he would tell.

"Of course we will." The Elder curved his mandibles into a smile. "Of course we will."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"I came because I was chased, I was dropped into a smaller valley originally."

They were inside the drill, eating what they could scrounge for the day.

"So you were hunted, only survivor of your group too I guess."

She nodded silently.

"Those motherfuckers." He rumbled, mostly to himself.

Isabelle smiled slightly, then shifted her weight. "The weird thing was it seemed like it quit on me, just after I came here."

Royce stopped, his fork halfway to his mouth, he looked at her seriously. "I've never heard of that happening."

She rested her head on her hand, she looked exhausted, he noticed, but she focused her eyes on him. "It's true, it chase me into this valley, then I lose it, or it gave up."

He wanted to say something in response to that, an expression of disbelief maybe, but then he felt the old pain in ribs, the pain in his leg. He looked up at her, a feeling of unease growing.

"They healed me once."

"What?" She lifted her head, she suddenly looked less tired, more alert. Disbelieving.

Royce suddenly put his bowl aside, he had lost his appetite as the memory of the pain came flooding back. "It was after a hunt, I had won, but barely. My ribs were broken, my leg bone snapped like a goddamn matchstick. I think I must have passed out, or something, next thing I know I'm awake, in the jungle, completely healed."

She said nothing, but her eyes widened in shock.

He turned his mind to the thought that had bothered him, "They want us healthy, they want us healed."

"And they wanted us together."

He was considering, thinking. "We're more dangerous together." He said slowly, "They like challenges, they like increased danger." He reasoned.

"Too bad for the last one it didn't know I was hiding, waiting to take it out."

Royce rubbed the bruises it left, "It was toying with me, sadistic bastard."

"Is that why you insisted leaving it, naked, upside down, flayed open and hanging from a tree?"

He said nothing, just smirked.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The raid had gone well, though unfortunately no False Hunters had been captured. The True Hunters came back singing songs of glory and victory.

Little did they know their enemies were plotting a sudden and swift revenge. Their ship cloaked, entered the hated ones' territory. The captain gazed at the huge sleek black figure in his cargo hold. It sat on a huge swollen egg sack. It screeched ineffectively against its captivity.

The moon was far below him glowing, jewel-bright in the velvet blackness of space. Slowly, deliberately, he adjusted the controls that forced the figure to reproduce, it screeched in pain as the conveyer belt took away her progeny.

Still cloaked, unnoticed, the machine began to spread the eggs around the Game Preserve where their enemies were hunting.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Far below, unknowing and unaware the two humans curled together in sleep, protected in the metallic drill. They dreamed of their own world, they dreamed of each other. They did not seek each other consciously; they only permitted themselves to do so in their sleep, after burning months and years without human contact.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

A/N: Guess I'm on a roll! But I feel the writers block coming on next chapter. Groan. So please enjoy and be patient, thanks.

* I take zero credit for this phrase. It was in one of the Perry AvP books and thought it was so funny I just had to use it.


	10. Chapter 10

The Serpent

Royce awoke curled up around Isabelle. They were close together, almost touching, but not quite. He could smell the scent coming off her hair.

He pulled away, but he could feel his reluctance, and the effect she had on him.

He took care of his condition by pretending to take a piss. He hoped Isabelle did not wake and hear the soft grunts and moans emanating from the "bathroom". Or walk in and see him slumped over in relief.

He wondered how long it had been. Too fucking long, he decided, he couldn't even remember the last time. Another reason to hate the Predators for sticking him on this stupid rock. For a moment he felt like marching back over, waking her up and straight up propositioning her. Or, he had a darker thought, not asking for her permission at all.

He immediately dismissed such a thought. He was a cold, ruthless bastard, but there were lines he could never cross. There were other times he could remember, soldiers, mercenaries would whisper such things in war zones. Talking about it, egging each other on, swapping stories about going out and capturing an enemy woman, or any woman for that matter. He doubted any of them had the balls to do it, although he knew a few who were definitely despicable enough. He never did it, or even considered it, and looked down on those who did.

Besides, he thought, she didn't look like one who would tolerate anything. She'd probably kick the ass of any man who even looked at her the wrong way. He smirked at the thought. Then shook his head.

_God this place is fucking with my mind._

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Sometimes I dream of Earth, and it feels good, like I've escaped."

"But then you wake up and realize where you are."

"Mmm." She nodded, "And then you can feel even worse. Still," she sighed, "It's better than nothing."

Better than nothing. That's the best they can expect from this place.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The Elder breathed in the scent of his Game Preserve. They did not land, but they were not in a vacuum, nor was the air too thin. He savored the scent of "his" moon, reveled in the sight of the unbroken forest, savored the memory of his many successful hunts here.

And somewhere on this moon his little project was slowly coming to fruition.

He dismissed that thought though. He had to focus on other things. An enemy ship had been detected nearby in this system. It appeared to be leaving, which many thought was a good sign, the Elder disagreed and led the expedition. It was boring duty, patrol work, one someone of his status could have avoided, but he volunteered anyway. It was good to get out.

The ship did not land, not with sneaky humans on the planet, including one who had nearly stolen a ship before. Instead it merely hovered and scanned. When it reached the right altitude he and his team jumped.

The forest was quiet, which in itself was not suspicious. It was not a natural system, merely an arena, a world terraformed enough to keep the game animals alive, although if they left it alone for millions of years who knew what would evolve here. He gave the signal and one by one they cloaked, he checked the communication link he had the ship, which was stable, then finally and sternly reminded his charges they were not here to hunt anything, merely patrol. He didn't want his two prize specimens killed.

It was boring duty work. They checked various camps they had set up in the forest, and he could tell the humans had raided some of them in the past, although none were here now. Nothing appeared to be amiss.

Until he saw the empty shell of a dead spider-like creature and the burst chest of it's host nearby.

The Elder cursed.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

It was an odd feeling, knowing anytime you stepped outside you could die a horrible death. Of course that was technically true on Earth. And there was no guarantee you'd die in your home as well, but it's something you had to keep in mind constantly here. You could not take anything lightly.

That point was driven home when they found the eggs.

They were curious things these eggs. Disgusting and slimy, yet they blossomed open like a flower. And when they did all hell broke loose.

Royce killed one of the spider things that emerged with his machete. The machete responded by melting.

He knew then that they were dealing with something new, something terrible. Eggs were scattered throughout the preserve, and when they hatched creatures with acid blood emerged and attacked. They saw other aliens, the animals of the forest, with spiders attached to their faces and their chests burst open, and every instinct inside them told them to run and keep running. So they did.

Unconsciously the humans sought the safety of the drill, their one and only shelter, but an encounter with a fully grown creature inside put any notions of safety to rest. Royce raised his shotgun and aimed, and he realized with dim remembrance and horror the old acid stains on the wall of the drill. The ones Noland seemed to glance at meaningfully when he spoke of "shit you wouldn't believe." It is a long, dark and terrible creature, one that seems to crawl from the deepest, darkest pit of human nightmares. It has arms and legs and a horrifyingly long eyeless head, but its movements are so quick and deadly the Woman dubs it "The Serpent" and the Man does not disagree with the moniker.

Isabelle looks at him. She looks with her big, dark, beautiful eyes full of desperation. They survived many things; horrible, awful things, but they both know deep down that this isn't one of them. He grabs her arm, hauling her after him.

"We leave this valley now." He orders and she says nothing to object. They head off into the deep primeval night, the planets and moons and stars shine coldly above.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The Elder, is utterly calm, his voice is completely steady. He has lost two young warriors, but he has killed the abominations that have emerged from their chests, and he does not let the slightest hint of panic escape into his voice while he checks the radio link to call for back up, reports his grim news. The False Hunters have left Hard Meat eggs on the moon, and at least one is a Queen- breeder. The moon will be overrun soon. He needs a ship to bring in more experienced hunters and take the wounded away. He needs help now.

To his infinite relief, he gets a response.

As more hunters arrive, eager to stop the infestation and gain glory for themselves against the False Hunter's sneaky trick he spares a brief thought to "his" two humans. How they fared, if they were still alive, if they became hosts or prey. A thought is all he can spare however, as the long hard fight looms ahead of him.

A/N: Aaaghh, this chapter was short and it sucked, but I felt I had to update after years of no response. If you read my Jeepers Creepers fan fiction you'll know I have a lot of difficulty writing and I'm sort of "abridging" my other work now, but I do want to finish my Royce/Isabelle story, so I'm trying, that's all I can say.


End file.
